


for blue skies

by sunsetozier



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, and connection bc romance, because mutual is like the term for people who follow each other on social media, but i decided not to name it that lol, dumb boys falling in love online, eddie is a photographer, richie is a musician, this is really wholesome but i still tagged it mature just because of curse words yk, this was originally gonna be called mutual connection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetozier/pseuds/sunsetozier
Summary: Just as he’s beginning to shake himself out of his daze, his phone buzzes in his hand, a notification popping up at the top of his screen that makes his entire body freeze, reading and rereading it to make sure his eyes aren’t playing a trick on him. When the words don’t change, his jaw drops, an anxious excitement tingling just beneath his skin.@trashmouthmusic followed you back![In which Richie posts anonymous covers on Twitter and Eddie is instantly infatuated with his voice.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this as a late birthday present to myself because i'm eighteen now and i can do what i WANT

            When Eddie was sixteen-years-old, he finally convinced his mom to let him have a cell phone. It took months of begging, of doing extra chores and skipping out on movie nights at Bill’s house, of pressing reluctant kisses to her cheek and asking if there was anything else he could do for her. He got down on his knees and pleaded with her, reminding her that his birthday was coming up, that Christmas was just around the corner, that he really, really wanted this. Then, on one quiet Sunday evening, he pulled a look of faux fear and asked, “What if I get sick or hurt and no one else is around? How will I be able to contact you, Ma?”

            Using such blatant manipulation felt wrong, dirty, and left guilt coiling in the pit of his stomach, but she ordered him an iPhone the next day. The victory was worth it, he thinks.

            Sometimes, Eddie wonders if his mother still thinks it’s the 80’s. There are moments where he’ll mention modern day technology and her features will cloud over with confusion and unfamiliarity, and her brows will pinch together as he explains to her what they are. Anything more advanced than a simple box television leaves her completely baffled, which quickly turns into irritation as her mind fails to comprehend how it works. The one time he tried asking her if they could get Wi-Fi at the house, she had a meltdown, demanding to know what the internet is useful for and why he feels like he needs it. Meekly, he informed her that he needed the internet to complete at least half of his schoolwork. She let him do homework at Bill’s house after that, never even entertaining the idea of getting a Wi-Fi router set up in their home.

            Because of her detachment from technology, everything he knows is learned through his friends. And thank god for them – if he didn’t have them, it would have taken him weeks to figure out how the hell his phone worked. Thanks to Bill, Mike, and Ben, however, he got the basics pretty quickly. Soon enough, he felt like a normal high school student, wasting his time texting his friends and watching dumb YouTube videos until early hours of the morning (they didn’t have Wi-Fi, sure, but he has great service in his room and it only took a little bit of lying to convince his mom that the unlimited data plan was the safest option. “Just in case of emergencies,” he told her. “I don’t want to risk not having enough data to get ahold of you.” Of course, he doesn’t need data to call her, but she didn’t know any better, now did she?)

            A few months after getting his phone, however, he began to hear more and more about certain websites. The girl that sat in front of him in Algebra 2 whispered to her friend about how many Instagram followers she had; a group of boys passing him in the hallway laughed loudly at a Tumblr post that was, apparently, hilarious. Though curious, he didn’t think much of it, until he sat down at lunch one Friday in the middle of Mike telling Ben about his Twitter account. Eddie couldn’t help but ask, “What is that? Twitter?”

            “What?” Mike turned to face him with his eyebrows raised high, looking almost bewildered, before realization dawned on his features and he smiled. “It’s just this app I have that I’ve been addicted to this past week.”

            Anyone else would have left it at that. Eddie Kaspbrak is not anyone else. “It’s a social media site, right? Like… Tumblr, and Instagram?”

            “It is,” Ben nodded, sticking his hand out in Eddie’s direction, who immediately pulled his phone out of his back pocket and handed it over. “They’re kind of confusing at first, but I think you’d like them. I’ll download them for you.” As he said this, he unlocked Eddie’s phone – his fingerprint, along with Mike and Bill’s, were programmed into the phone the day he got it, as there was no one he trusted more than them – and opened the App store.

            Perhaps it was stupid, but Eddie felt genuine excitement at this. Unable to stop himself, he said, “Tell me about them.”

            “About what?” Bill asked, sliding into the seat besides Mike.

            “Tumblr,” Eddie told him, “and Instagram, and Twitter.”

            Bill made a noise of interest, his eyes brightening slightly as he glanced around the table. After a moment, Mike answered, “Instagram is where you post pictures. It also has stories and filters, which is kind of a rip off of Snapchat and not nearly as good, but the app itself is pretty nice.” Ben hummed, nodding along as he added Snapchat to the list of apps to download. “Tumblr is pretty fun, but it has a lot of weird shit on it, so you have to be careful who you follow or else you’ll end up with porn all over your dashboard.” This made Eddie grimace slightly, nose crinkled in disgust. “Twitter is my personal favorite, even though a lot of people seem to hate it. You can basically just tweet about your day and post dumb stuff, and there’s a lot of funny shit on there, too. You can make friends on all of them, but I think Twitter is easiest to make friends on because their DM system is a lot more efficient and easy to use.”

            “DM?” Eddie questioned.

            “Direct messaging,” Ben intervened, finally handing Eddie’s phone back at the last app finished installing. “It’s like texting, but on the app, so you don’t have to exchange phone numbers or anything.”

            Eddie looked down at the device in his hand in something akin to awe, still confused about what these things were but excited to learn. As he stared, unsure of what to do next, Bill leaned over and mused, “We need to think of a username for you to use.”

            It took hours of debating in their group chat, but by the end of the day, it had been settled. That was the night that _simplyeddie_ was created.

            For the next month, Eddie toyed around with these apps, trying to understand how they worked and what made them so popular. He was quite fond of Instagram right off the bat, as it gave him a place to post all the pointless pictures he took throughout the day. At first the only people to like his photos were his friends, but as the weeks went by he gained a few more followers here and there, even receiving a few kind comments about his photography. He didn’t think his pictures were that good, but the comments made him smile no less. Tumblr was, as Mike said, quite fun to be on and had a lot of funny posts on it that made him double over in laughter, but he quickly deleted it after a someone he followed reblogged some very graphic porn that made his stomach curl in discomfort. Snapchat, much liked Instagram, caught his attention when he learned that it was based around picture taking. Plus, he found the filters to be unbelievably cute and addictive, and he used them to take an ungodly number of selfies with his friends, who were always happy to comply when he pulled out his phone.

            But, much like Mike, Twitter was his favorite.

            It was a lot less confusing than Tumblr was, it had a lot of humor on it, and it was where his friends were most active. He was surprised to find that Ben, Mike and Bill all had at least a thousand followers, all of which seemed to really love them and interacted a lot to whatever bullshit they tweeted. When Eddie made his account, they gave it a shout out and he instantly shot up to three hundred followers even though he hadn’t even posted anything yet, and those three hundred people were just as happy to respond to him as they were to respond to his friends. He didn’t understand why they seemed to like him so much, but once he got accustomed to Twitter and started tweeting his pictures from Instagram and his selfies from Snapchat and whatever unprecedented thought that ran through his mind late at night, his follower count steadily increased. After just a few weeks, he had the same amount of followers as Mike, then as Ben, then as Bill, and then he somehow surpassed them until he reached two thousand.

            Yes, he loved Twitter, but none of that was what made it his favorite.

            A week after creating his account, he was going through the accounts that his friends followed to find people who caught his eye. Most of them were humorous, tweeting out jokes and funny pictures, but then he came across something interesting – someone with the username _trashmouthmusic_. Curious, he clicked on this profile and scrolled down to see what kind of content they had, only to find various videos waiting for him. Now he was thoroughly intrigued. He quickly scrambled to grab his headphones and plugged them in, loading up the most recent video and bouncing his leg impatiently. Once it loaded, however, he went completely still.

            On screen, there was a boy. His face was only visible from the lips down, a large sweater sliding off one shoulder in the low lighting, a keyboard barely visible at the bottom edge. Upon closer inspection, Eddie noticed that there was some curly hair brushing the boy’s shoulders, as if he had tried to pull his hair up and a few strands got loose. There was a moment of nothing where the boy took a deep breath, before he raised his hands – pale skin, long fingers decorated with an odd range of rings, a few freckles leading up to his wrist and disappearing underneath his sleeves – and placed them on the keys in front of him. A long, slow exhale, and then he began to play. The song was simple, only consisting of the same repeated chords and four higher notes to mingle with the tune, but something about it felt so… heavy, almost overwhelming.

            Eddie held his breath. The boy opened his mouth and began to sing.

            Something about his voice was alluring, in a way that Eddie couldn’t even begin to explain. It was soft and gentle, but still raspy, holding so much emotion that it ached to hear. The lyrics falling from his mouth were meaningful, almost solemn when paired with the piano. Eddie’s eyes fluttered as he listened, but kept his gaze trained on the boy, practically in a daze as he watched his lips form the words.

                        _It’s been a long year_

_Since we last spoke_

_How’s your halo?_

_Just between you and I_

_You and me and those sad lights_

_I never believed you_

_I only wanted to_

_Before all this_

_What did I miss?_

_Do you ever get homesick?_

_I can’t get used to it_

_I can’t get used to it_

_I’ll never get used to it_

            The video ended abruptly after that line. An embarrassing noise of protest formed in the back of Eddie’s throat, but he swallowed it before it could escape as he hit the back button. _For Blue Skies by Strays Don’t Sleep_ , the tweet with the video said. _Let me know if you like it._

            Before he could stop himself, Eddie typed out a reply. _That was incredible. You should do a full cover_ , his response read. As soon as it sent, he went back to the boy’s account and followed, even turning on notifications so that he would know when the boy posted something else. He spent the rest of his night going through Trashmouth’s media, watching all of the covers he had in awe, liking them as he went and retweeting the ones that made his heart race or his eyes water.

            When he finally left the boy’s account, he had four Twitter notifications. The first one was a new follower – the girl in his Algebra 2 class that always bragged about her Instagram followers. He contemplated it, but decided not to follow back. The second was a picture that Mike tweeted of him, Eddie, Bill, and Ben that they had taken at lunch. With a grin, Eddie retweeted it and replied with a heart.

            The third and fourth notifications were from _trashmouthmusic_ , who had simply liked Eddie’s reply and responded with, _thank you (:_

            Eddie’s heart skipped a beat. He liked the tweet and debated on if he should say anything else, but in the end, he just turned off his phone and went to bed.

            All of that had been a year ago.

            Now, Eddie is seventeen-years-old, just finished his Junior year of high school, and has nearly five thousand followers who seem to think of him as some sort of royalty even though he’s really not. His group of friends are, for some reason, very popular online.

            And his undeniable interest in _trashmouthmusic_ has only grown stronger.

            His friends are well aware of his obsession, often teasing him for having an internet crush, but they can’t deny that the strange boy – who has not once shared his name or shown his full face – is bafflingly talented. At first, he had been hesitant about how to approach this, but eventually he threw caution to the wind and openly praises each cover the boy posts, liking and retweeting it, even going as far as to recommend his covers to his followers whenever they ask about music.

            Trashmouth, on his part, has thanked Eddie many times for his kind words and support.

            That’s about the extent of it.

            Any normal person would have lost interest by now, no doubt, but there’s something about the videos – about those soft lips with the gentle curve, about the way his jaw is angled, not necessarily sharp but not round either, about the soothing voice floating through the air – that keeps Eddie there. By this point, he feels like it’s impossible to stop watching, feels addicted to these simple recordings, to the way the boy quickly licks his lower lip between lyrics, to the way he smiles gently, genuinely, before each video ends.

            So, okay, yeah. Maybe Eddie has a bit of an internet crush on someone he doesn’t know the name or face of. Maybe his friends are right to tease him about it. Maybe he’s a fucking idiot for feeling this way. He doesn’t care, not really. It’s not like the guy will ever know, anyway.

 

 

 

            This week’s cover is posted at nine o’clock on Friday night, as always. Eddie is just getting ready to lay down when he gets the notification for it and instantly opens the tweet, smiling to himself in excitement as he clicks on the video. He settles back against his pillows and waits for it to load, already curious as to what song it will be, anticipation coiling happily in the pit of his stomach.

            Finally, after a few moments of buffering (he swears he’ll convince his mother to get Wi-Fi some day, but today is not that day), he’s greeted with the usual sight – the boy sitting in front of a plain white wall with some kind of instrument accompanying him. This time it’s a ukulele, light brown wood somehow shining in the typical low lighting, the boy’s fingers already resting on the neck of the instrument and prepared to play. There’s a short moment where he breathes in, and then he begins.

                        _Nothing goes as planned_

_Everything will break_

_People say goodbye_

_In their own special way_

            This is a song that Eddie not only knows, but often puts on repeat on days when he’s feeling down. His shoulders sag slightly, lips parted in awe as he wonders how the boy manages to convey so much emotion in his tone. It makes him upset to think that the boy has ever been sad before, so he chooses to believe that he’s a very good actor instead.

                        _All that you rely on_

_And all that you can fake_

_Will leave you in the morning_

_But find you in the day_

_Oh, you’re in my veins_

_And I cannot get you out_

_Oh, you’re all I taste_

_At night inside of my mouth_

_Oh, you run away_

_‘Cause I am not what you found_

_Oh, you’re in my veins_

_And I cannot get you out_

            Due to Twitter videos being limited in size, it stops there, much to Eddie’s dismay. He’s used to only getting to hear portions of songs, never the full thing, but it never fails to disappoint him when all he wants is to hear the cover from beginning to end. Despite this, though, he can’t help the grin that forms on his face as he replays the video, soaking in the lyrics and swaying as he listens intently to the boy’s voice. He has full intentions of listening to it over and over again until he’s too tired to stay awake when Mike texts him.

                        **_mikeyyy:_** _did you see what trashmouth just tweeted??_

_**eddie:** the cover? yeah, i was just watching it_

_**mikeyyy:** no, after that. he’s gonna do a live stream tonight_

            Eddie feels his breathing stutter in his chest as he quickly goes back to Twitter and refreshes the page, breath stuck in his throat as a tweet from fifteen minutes ago pops up.

                        **_@trashmouthmusic:_** _hey! i wanna try something new. anyone down to watch a groovy live stream in, like, twenty minutes? maybe twenty-five?_

            There’s already nearly two hundred replies (all consisting of different, excited variations of the word _yes_ ), which only serves to remind Eddie of how popular this trashmouth guy is. He’s nearing fifteen thousand followers currently, which is massively impressive since he only had a few hundred when Eddie followed him last year. Before he can properly mull over this observation, his phone vibrates in his hand to notify him that Trashmouth has started live streaming on Periscope, and his heart, embarrassingly enough, skips a beat in response.

            He’s not sure what he expects to see when the stream loads, but it turns out to be no different than the weekly covers – plain white wall, barely visible curly hair brushing against lean shoulders, soft lips at the top of the frame with his keyboard at the bottom. What is different, however, is the fact that he doesn’t instantly start to sing. Instead, his lips twitch into what appears to be a nervous smile, fingers tapping silently against his knees, before he murmurs a low, “Hey.”

            Eddie has to remind himself how to breathe. He’s heard the boy’s voice plenty of time, but only his _singing_ voice, not his _talking_ voice. This is completely different, yet it’s somehow not different at all.

            “Like I said,” the boy continues, absentmindedly running the tips of his fingers up and down his arms, “I want to try something new. I’ve only been able to post a few full covers, just ‘cause Twitter only allows videos under two-minutes and twenty seconds, but… I dunno. There’s no time limit on live streams, so I’m gonna do a full song.” He pauses, licking his lower lip. “Any suggestions?”

            Instantly, the chat for the stream fills with song titles. Eddie blinks in surprise, only just now realizing that there’s nearly two hundred people watching, with more joining every passing moment. Shaking himself of his shock, he pulls up his keyboard and types up the first song that comes to mind, the first song that he ever heard Trashmouth sing. _For Blue Skies_.

            He doesn’t think his message will be seen amidst the chaos of the chat, but the boy on screen suddenly grins and says, “That’s a good one, simplyeddie. I think that’s the first one you replied to, right? It was awhile ago, but, um… yeah, I think so.”

            Inhaling sharply, Eddie feels butterflies flitting about his stomach in reaction to hearing the boy say his name. A bit shakily, smiling to himself like an idiot, he types out, _that was over a year ago, how do you remember that?_ By this point, the chat is flying far too fast to read and he’s certain his response won’t be seen, but again he’s proven wrong.

            “Of course I remember,” Trashmouth hums thoughtfully. “You were, like, the first person other than my friends to really hype up my covers. I wouldn’t forget.” This makes Eddie laugh softly under his breath in disbelief, unsure of how to react. Before he can think of something else to say, though, the boy on screen places the pads of his fingers atop the keyboard gently in preparation and murmurs, “This is _For Blue Skies_ by Strays Don’t Sleep, one of my favorite slow songs, and it’s dedicated to Eddie for being here for a year. I… I really appreciate you. Honestly.”

            Eddie’s too shell-shocked by these words to even think of a response, so he doesn’t bother writing one yet. Instead, he leans further into his pillows and stares at his phone as the song begins. The piano is as gentle as he remembers, the simple chords creating something so beautiful that he tilts his head back in wonder, soaking it in. His eyes flutter shut as the boy begins to sing the first verse, the lyrics just as heavy as they had been a year ago, if not more so. It isn’t until he gets past the part where the video ended that Eddie’s heart starts to race.

                        _I’m under that night_

_I’m under those same stars_

_We’re in a red car_

_You asleep at my side_

_Going in and out of the headlights_

_Could I have saved you?_

_Would that have betrayed you?_

            Eddie’s eyes open suddenly, his throat closing. Something about this verse sticks out to him even more than the last. Leaning forward, he turns his volume up until he can feel his headphones vibrations in his ears, aching to hear each and every word.

                        _I wanna burn this film_

_You alone with those pills_

_What you couldn’t do I will_

_I’ll forgive you_

_I’ll forgive you_

_I forgive you_

            He can feel himself trembling as the boy’s breath hitches on these lyrics, voice wavering with emotion. The raw beauty of the song is painful, but not as painful as that.

                        _For blue, blue skies_

_For blue, blue skies_

_For blue, blue skies_

_For blue, blue skies_

_I forgive you_

_I forgive you_

            This continues for another thirty seconds or so, slowly decreasing in volume until it’s barely a whisper, and then it’s silent. Shaking, Eddie types, _that was beautiful_ , and sends it into the chat. Again, despite the fact that there’s dozens of messages per second, Trashmouth manages to see his. He smiles slightly and murmurs a quiet, “Thank you, Eddie. I’m glad you liked it.”

            Then, without another word, the stream ends, leaving Eddie alone in his room, gazing at his phone in bewilderment and awe. Just as he’s beginning to shake himself out of his daze, his phone buzzes in his hand, a notification popping up at the top of his screen that makes his entire body freeze, reading and rereading it to make sure his eyes aren’t playing a trick on him. When the words don’t change, his jaw drops, an anxious excitement tingling just beneath his skin.

                        _@trashmouthmusic followed you back!_

            He can’t fight the grin forming on his face as he goes to Trashmouth’s twitter and sees the _follows you_ badge by his name. Before he can think of how to react, he gets another notification – this time a DM from, surprisingly (but not really surprising at all), Trashmouth. Eddie takes a deep breath to calm his heart rate before opening it.

                        **_[9:25 pm] trashmouthmusic:_** _i should have followed you ages ago, sorry it took so long_

_**[9:25 pm] simplyeddie:** don’t be sorry! i never expected you to follow me in the first place haha_

_**[9:26 pm] trashmouthmusic:** really?? why not?_

_**[9:26 pm] simplyeddie:** are you kidding me? you’re this amazing singer dude with crazy talent_

_**[9:26 pm] simplyeddie:** i’m just a dumb kid posting dumb shit on twitter_

_**[9:27 pm] simplyeddie:** seems like a no brainer to me, not gonna lie_

_**[9:29 pm] trashmouthmusic:** that’s stupid_

_**[9:29 pm] trashmouthmusic:** i’ve actually heard a lot about you because my friends follow you_

_**[9:29 pm] trashmouthmusic:** if anything, i don’t feel like YOU shouldn't be following ME cause i’m just a dumb kid posting dumb covers_

_**[9:30 pm] simplyeddie:** your covers aren’t dumb, they’re incredible_

_**[9:30 pm] trashmouthmusic:** well, thank you (:_

_**[9:31 pm] trashmouthmusic:** as much as i’d love to stay and chat, i’m tired af so i’m going to bed, but i’ll dm you tomorrow, okay?_

_**[9:31 pm] simplyeddie:** sounds good!!_

_**[9:31 pm] trashmouthmusic:** sweet! goodnight, eddie_

_**[9:32 pm] simplyeddie:** goodnight, trashmouth (:_

_**[9:36 pm] trashmouthmusic:** it’s richie_

_**[9:36 pm] trashmouthmusic:** my name, i mean. it’s richie._

_**[9:36 pm] trashmouthmusic:** don’t tell anyone that, please? the only people who know that are my irl's that follow me, beverly and stan_

_**[9:37 pm] simplyeddie:** oh! yeah, of course!_

_**[9:37 pm] simplyeddie:** goodnight, richie_

_**[9:39 pm] trashmouthmusic:** <3_

            It takes over an hour for Eddie to calm down enough to go to sleep, and when he does, there’s an irremovable smile on his face.

 

 

 

 

            The following afternoon, when Eddie arrives at Bill’s house for their first full weekend sleepover of the summer, Mike tackles him to the couch. He releases a yelp upon impact, followed by an incredulous laugh as he weakly attempts to push the taller boy off of him. Ben watches in amusement from where he’s sitting on the floor, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to record the interaction. Mike is much stronger than Eddie is, so Eddie’s struggle is futile, leaving him to helplessly wriggle his body and yell, “God dammit, Mike, get the fuck off me!”

            Pinning Eddie against the sofa completely, rendering him stuck, Mike repeatedly sing-songs, “He dedicated a song to you! He dedicated a song to you!” The words are muffled in Eddie’s hair.

            “Get off!” Eddie whines, but his cheeks warm upon the realization that Mike had seen the live stream, too. Summoning as much energy as possible, he surges his elbow into Mike’s ribs, not hard enough to hurt but with enough force to make him lurch back. He uses this moment to his advantage and rolls out from underneath Mike, huffing out a quiet, “Dick.”

            Pouting, Mike rubs his ribs dramatically as Ben laughs. “First of all, rude. Second, can we _please_ talk about the fact that trashmouthmusic dedicated a song to you?”

            “Wait, he _what_?!” Bill exclaims as he enters the room, an array of snacks in his arms for the lazy day ahead. Dumping the food onto the floor unceremoniously, he faces Eddie with his eyebrows raised. “When the fuck did _that_ happen?”

            Blushing deeper, Eddie murmurs, “Last night. He did a live stream, and… yeah.”

            “That’s so cool!” Ben says, hopping up to his feet with a grin. “What happened, exactly? Like, what’d he say? What song was it?”

            Smiling to himself, Eddie parts his lips to respond, only to snap his mouth shut as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out quickly, smile growing when he sees what the notification is.

                        **_[4:23 pm] trashmouthmusic:_** _gooood morning!_

_**[4:23 pm] trashmouthmusic:** well, afternoon. i might have slept in a little bit._

_**[4:23 pm] simplyeddie:** a little bit? it’s almost 4:30_

_**[4:24 pm] trashmouthmusic:** …like i said, good afternoon_

            “Who is that?” Mike asks curiously, attempting to gaze at Eddie’s phone over his shoulder. Letting at a horrendous squeak, Eddie turns off his screen and presses the device against his chest, spinning around to face his friends with wide eyes.

            They stare back at him with a smug kind of shock, as if already aware of the answer. Ducking his head to avoid their gazes, he murmurs, “It’s Trashmouth.”

            “He’s messaging you?” Ben questions, grinning. “Since when?”

            “Last night,” Eddie tells him, voice even softer.

            “Alright!” Bill exclaims, kicking aside the snacks still sprawled across the floor. He reaches over and grabs Mike and Ben by the elbows, tugging them backward until the backs of their knees it the couch and they collapse onto it. Then, looking up at Eddie expectantly, Bill instructs, “Tell us what happened.”

            Ben leans back against the sofa with eyes narrowed down in concentration, ready to listen to every word. Mike does the opposite, leaning forward against his knees and cocking an eyebrow in curiosity. Bill just tilts his head slightly to the side, offering no other outward reaction. Biting down on his lower lip, Eddie explains, “He did a live stream last night, like I said. He asked for song suggestions, and the first song that came to my mind was the first cover of his that I saw, so I sent it in chat and he saw it. I… I don’t know how, because about a million other messages were coming in at the same time, but yeah. Anyway, uh- he said something about how he remembers me responding to that cover and how that was the first cover of his that I ever responded to, and when I asked him how he remembered that, he said that I was, like, the first person other than his friends to hype up his covers and that he wouldn’t forget.” He pauses briefly, sparing a quick glance up to see his friend’s reactions, but their faces all remain neutral. Nervously, he goes on, “So, he dedicated the song to me for sticking around for so long, then he ended the stream. After that, though, he followed me back and DM’d me to apologize for taking so long to follow me, and that’s… That’s about it, really. We said goodnight after that and he just DM’d me again.”

            There’s a moment of silence that follows where his friends share thoughtful looks, as if silently communicating to one another about how they feel of the situation. Eddie fidgets as he waits for someone to speak, each passing second leaving him more and more anxious, until finally Mike nods and says, “It’s about time he completed the mutual.”

            “Only took a fucking year,” Bill agrees, laughing giddily. “I’ve been following him for a year and a half and he still hasn’t followed me back. You’re god damn lucky, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

            Ben pushes himself to his feet, grinning as he pats Eddie reassuringly on the shoulder. “Looks like your internet crush is paying off,” he teases. “You should probably message him back soon, though, before he thinks you’re ignoring him or something.”

            “Fuck off,” Eddie murmurs, but his smile is blinding, all the tension leaving his body with a single exhale. Unlocking his phone, he falls onto the sofa besides Bill and pulls open his DM’s.

                        **_[4:35 pm] simplyeddie:_** _sorry, my friends decided to interrogate me on who i was messaging lmao_

_**[4:35 pm] simplyeddie:** good afternoon to you, too! i hope you slept well!_

 

 

 

 

            It’s like this for awhile.

            Eddie, who is still convinced this is all some elaborate dream that he’ll wake up from soon, finds himself messaging Richie just as often as he texts his friends. They interact a lot on Twitter, mostly referencing dumb shit from their DM’s, which is something their followers take quick notice to. Due to Richie’s high follower account (now officially past 15k), Eddie’s has now surpassed six thousand and is quickly nearing seven, for some odd reason. People tweet Eddie for days asking if they’re friends, which he’s hesitant to answer because he doesn’t want to assume, but Richie ends up replying with a simple yes after nearly a week of being bombarded with the same question.

            It’s strange, really, knowing that Richie considers him a friend.

            They get along wonderfully, though, both quick witted and able to take a joke. This often leads to them bickering back and forth, spamming one another with overly edited reaction pictures and gifs that make no god damn sense. On more than one occasion, Eddie has found himself wheezing into his palm, trying to stifle his own laughter to avoid his mother hearing him but unable to stop it from bubbling out of his throat in uncontrollable bouts of giggles. The more hilarious the conversation, the more likely he is to screenshot it and send it to his group chat with Mike, Ben, and Bill. Particularly obscure messages will be tweeted with no context, which usually ends in Richie replying to him with some kind of overdramatic claim of betrayal.

            All in all, Eddie is having a fucking blast. He thinks this is the best summer of his life.

 

 

 

 

                        **_[12:53 pm] trashmouthmusic:_** _question_

_**[12:53 pm] simplyeddie:** answer_

_**[12:54 pm] trashmouthmusic:** haha very funny_

_**[12:54 pm] trashmouthmusic:** no but really_

_**[12:54 pm] trashmouthmusic:** your friends. what are their twitters._

_**[12:55 pm] simplyeddie:** why???_

_**[12:55 pm] trashmouthmusic:** because you talk about them a lot and i wanna follow them_

_**[12:55 pm] simplyeddie:** damn ok_

_**[12:56 pm] simplyeddie:** @bigbill @mikeyyy @bubbaben_

_**[12:57 pm] trashmouthmusic:** bubba??? why is his @ bubbaben pls explain_

_**[12:57 pm] simplyeddie:** his mom calls him bubba and he liked the way it sounded let the boy live Richard_

_**[12:58 pm] trashmouthmusic:** first of all, it’s just richie you cuck_

_**[12:58 pm] trashmouthmusic:** second of all, i’m not judging. that’s actually really cute._

_**[12:58 pm] simplyeddie:** you have no room to judge, trashmouth_

_**[12:59 pm] simplyeddie:** actually, why is your username trashmouth?? where did that come from??? why have i never thought to ask this before now wtf????_

_**[1:00 am] trashmouthmusic:** deep answer- acceptance of my flaws, as i very much am a trashmouth. not so deep answer- smashmouth. need i say more?_

_**[1:00 am] simplyeddie:** i am blocking you because of that. bye._

_**[1:00 am] trashmouthmusic:** NO, WAIT, I CAN CHANGE_

_**[1:01 am] trashmouthmusic:** GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE BABY I’LL PROVE I’M WORTH KEEPING AROUND_

_**[1:04 am] trashmouthmusic:** pls_

_**[1:06 am] simplyeddie:** mention smashmouth again and i will not only block you but i will also alert the authorities and make them kill you_

_**[1:07 am] trashmouthmusic:** deal_

_**[1:09 am] trashmouthmusic:** my next cover is gonna be all-star and no one can stop me_

_**[1:10 am] simplyeddie:** i’m done. goodnight._

_**[1:10 am] trashmouthmusic:** sleep well, eds :D  <3_

_**[10:23 am] simplyeddie:** am i allowed to suggest songs for you to cover or no_

_**[10:23 am] trashmouthmusic:** i mean, you can recommend songs and if i like it i’ll probably at least learn how to play it, but no promise that i’ll actually record a cover_

_**[10:24 am] trashmouthmusic:** why? got anything in mind?_

_**[10:24 am] simplyeddie:** i mean, kinda_

_**[10:24 am] simplyeddie:** idk i was just listening to music and human by jon bellion came on and i just think your voice would sound really nice with it_

_**[10:26 am] trashmouthmusic:** i’ll look it up and see what i can do (;_

_**[9:04 pm] simplyeddie:** YOU ACTUALLY COVERED HUMAN_

_**[9:04 pm] simplyeddie:** RICHIE_

_**[9:04 pm] simplyeddie:** HOLY FUCKING SHIT_

_**[9:05 pm] trashmouthmusic:** was it okay?? i don’t feel like i did it justice_

_**[9:05 pm] simplyeddie:** ARE YOU KIDDING ME_

_**[9:05 pm] simplyeddie:** I’M LITERALLY SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY FUCK_

_**[9:06 pm] trashmouthmusic:** whaT WHY_

_**[9:06 pm] simplyeddie:** YOUR VOICE IS SO FUCKING GOOD_

_**[9:07 pm] simplyeddie:** how are you a real person holy shit_

_**[9:07 pm] trashmouthmusic:** it isn’t that good eds_

_**[9:07 pm] simplyeddie:** um???? my tears and i beg to differ_

_**[9:07 pm] trashmouthmusic:** but it’s seriously not that good_

_**[9:08 pm] simplyeddie:** what’s your last name_

_**[9:08 pm] trashmouthmusic:** tozier_

_**[9:10 pm] simplyeddie:** RICHIE TOZIER IF YOU TELL ME ONE MORE TIME THAT YOUR COVERS “AREN’T THAT GOOD” I’M GOING TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND PUNCH YOU_

_**[9:11 pm] trashmouthmusic:** WHY_

_**[9:11 pm] simplyeddie:** BECAUSE!! you are so fucking talented richie, like i can’t even TRY to explain how talented you are because it’s beyond just words_

_**[9:11 pm] simplyeddie:** this isn’t the first time your voice has brought me to tears because of how beautiful it is_

_**[9:12 pm] trashmouthmusic:** …i don’t know what to say_

_**[9:12 pm] simplyeddie:** do you trust me?_

_**[9:12 pm] trashmouthmusic:** of course i trust you_

_**[9:13 pm] simplyeddie:** then trust that i’m not lying when i say you are an incredible musician and that even your simplest, most basic covers are incredible_

_**[9:13 pm] trashmouthmusic:** okay._

_**[9:14 pm] trashmouthmusic:** thank you, eddie. seriously. i don’t what i did to deserve a friend like you but i’m so grateful for you_

_**[9:14 pm] simplyeddie:** now i’m crying even more thanks_

_**[9:14 pm] simplyeddie:** but i’m grateful for you, too  <3_

 

 

 

 

            Eddie is in the middle of washing the dishes from dinner when he realizes something.

            Over the past month that him and Richie have been talking, he’s spent most of his time at home or at Bill’s house, on his phone or watching movies and just hanging out. It’s been fun, sure, but he used to go on walks at least once a week to take photos. Frowning to himself, he dries the last of the plates and puts them away before pulling out his phone to text the group chat with Bill, Mike, and Ben, telling them that they should go to the Quarry tomorrow. Thankfully, they agree.

            He wakes up early the following morning, an excitement tingling beneath his skin as he gets ready, making sure to pack a bag with snacks, drinks, and a pair of swim trunks. Ben picks him up and together they drive to the Quarry, windows rolled down and music blasting. Eddie takes a picture of Ben grinning, the sunlight hitting him at an angle so perfect that it’s almost magical, and tweets it with the caption _, time to have a day outside with the boys!!_

            Richie likes the tweet a few minutes later and DM’s Eddie to tell him to have fun.

            The day goes by in a haze of laughter. He takes pictures of his friends, of himself with his friends, of the water and the trees, of himself with the sunset behind him, an orange glow cast over his skin, lips stretched into a wide smile. They stay until the stars are shining bright and the hot summer’s air has cooled to a comfortable warmth, settling over them like a nice blanket. Mike plays soft music in the background as they talk, minutes droning on into hours. At some point, Ben starts a little campfire for them to gather around, the moon high in the sky, and Bill records a video of Eddie laughing to the point of tears because of a story Mike tells them about the goats at his family’s farm that tried, and somewhat succeeded, to eat his pants.

            It’s well past midnight by the time Eddie dozes off laying in the grass, his head resting on Ben’s shoulder, light snores falling from his lips. He wakes briefly when Mike picks him up, and again when Bill carries him inside, but each time he falls back asleep with a small smile on his face, thinking that only one thing could make this day better.

            When he rolls out of Bill’s bed the next day, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, he immediately turns on his phone with the intention to call his mom and make sure she’s not worried about him not coming home last night, but he stops short when he sees the notifications waiting for him.

            Before passing out, he apparently posted all of the pictures he took from the night before, consisting mostly of himself and his friends, with a few shots of scenery here and there. These pictures have gotten hundreds of likes already, but his followers always seem to love his photography, so that isn’t much of a surprise. Along with this, though, are the things his friends tagged him in. Mike tweeted a picture of Eddie sleeping on Ben’s shoulder, his face illuminated by the fire they had been sitting around – this tweet has a few hundred likes and almost a hundred retweets. Rolling his eyes, Eddie retweets it himself.

            Bill posted the video of Eddie laughing until he cried, which he also retweets after watching it a few times, unable to stop himself from giggling at how ridiculous he looks in the video. Then, apparently trying to hop on the bandwagon, Ben put up the video from weeks and weeks ago, when Mike had tackled Eddie to the couch. Thankfully, Mike’s teasing words about Richie dedicating a song to him are too muffled to be heard, so he retweets this as well before going to check his DM’s.

            The one message he has makes his heart stutter in his chest.

                        **_[1:15 am] trashmouthmusic:_** _i know you’re probably asleep or still hanging out with your friends but i just saw all the pictures and the videos you guys posted and i realized i’ve never seen what you look like before now and i’m sorry if this is weird or something but you’re probably the most stunning boy to have ever walked this planet and i had to let you know that_

            He sits there for far too long, gaping at his phone silently. Before he can even begin to think of a response, he gets another message.

                        **_[9:24 am] trashmouthmusic:_** _good morning!_

_**[9:24 am] trashmouthmusic:** i want to apologize again because i think what i said last night might have been weird and i’m sorry if it was_

_**[9:25 am] simplyeddie:** don’t be sorry! i don’t think it was weird, i just don’t know what to say to that. just seems like too big of a compliment for someone like me lmao_

_**[9:25 am] trashmouthmusic:** i’m gonna use your own words against you here_

_**[9:25 am] trashmouthmusic:** do you trust me?_

_**[9:25 am] simplyeddie:** richie_

_**[9:26 am] trashmouthmusic:** do you?_

_**[9:26 am] simplyeddie:** yes_

_**[9:26 am] trashmouthmusic:** then trust me when i say this_

_**[9:26 am] trashmouthmusic:** you_

_**[9:26 am] trashmouthmusic:** are_

_**[9:27 am] trashmouthmusic:** gorgeous_

_**[9:27 am] simplyeddie:** i don’t think i believe that_

_**[9:27 am] trashmouthmusic:** would i ever lie to you?_

_**[9:28 am] simplyeddie:** …no_

_**[9:28 am] trashmouthmusic:** exactly. you don’t have to believe that you’re gorgeous, even though it’s true and i wish you could see that, but just believe that i honestly think you’re perfect_

_**[9:28 am] simplyeddie:** perfect is a very strong word, richie_

_**[9:29 am] trashmouthmusic:** and i mean it, too_

_**[9:29 am] simplyeddie:** call me crazy, but i get the feeling that i’m nothing compared to you_

_**[9:30 am] trashmouthmusic:** you’re crazy_

_**[9:30 am] simplyeddie:** um??? from the half of your face that i have seen in your covers, i can promise you i am not at all crazy and that i am definitely right about this_

_**[9:31 am] trashmouthmusic:** nope you’re wrong_

_**[9:31 am] simplyeddie:** this isn’t a fair fight because i don’t even know what your whole face looks like_

_**[9:32 am] trashmouthmusic:** there’s a reason for that _

_**[9:32 am] simplyeddie:** privacy?_

_**[9:32 am] trashmouthmusic:** tbh i just really don’t like how i look so i don’t show it_

_**[9:33 am] simplyeddie:** richie ):_

_**[9:33 am] trashmouthmusic** : just being honest. i’m not exactly kind on the eyes, eds._

_**[9:34 am] simplyeddie:** i think that’s bullshit_

_**[9:34 am] trashmouthmusic:** excuse me???_

_**[9:34 am] simplyeddie:** it’s bullshit. i’ve only seen from your mouth down and that was plenty for me to basically fall in love with you._

            He doesn’t realize what he’s said until it’s too late. As soon as the message is sent, his breath gets trapped in his throat and he throws his phone across the room, eyes bulging out of his head. It buzzes from where it lays on the carpet, only once at first, but then it goes off again, and again, and again. Eddie makes no move to check Richie’s response, only snatching the device off the floor and turning it off as he tries to control his shaky, uneven breathing. He shoves his feet into his shoes and doesn’t bother to say goodbye to Bill as he makes his way downstairs and out the door, sprinting to his house as fast as he can. It takes ten minutes, but he doesn’t slow down, instead letting his muscles ache and his lungs burn as he pushes himself to run faster, until the world is a blur around him and he can convince himself that the tears in his eyes are from the wind.

 

 

 

 

            As much as he wishes he could avoid this confrontation, he knows it’s inevitable and that ignoring it will only make things worse. That’s why he only lasts an hour, huddled in his room with the blanket pulled over his head, before he turns his phone back on to observe the damage he’s caused.

            Once it’s powered on, his phone goes crazy, buzzing every millisecond as it struggles to load all the notifications it’s missed. The first twenty or so are from Twitter, all of which are just DM’s from Richie.

                        **_[9:35 am] trashmouthmusic:_** _wait what_

_**[9:36 am] trashmouthmusic:** eddie_

_**[9:39 am] trashmouthmusic:** ???????????_

_**[9:42 am] trashmouthmusic:** eddie????_

_**[9:43 am] trashmouthmusic:** eddie can you please answer me_

_**[9:44 am] trashmouthmusic: do** you mean that? what you said? do you mean it???_

_**[9:48 am] trashmouthmusic:** EDDIE_

_**[9:50 am] trashmouthmusic:** i don’t want to like spam you but i’m starting to get worried here_

_**[10:03 am] trashmouthmusic:** definitely worried now_

_**[10:05 am] trashmouthmusic:** eddie please_

_**[10:06 am] trashmouthmusic:** i want to say something but i need you to answer me first_

_**[10:08 am] trashmouthmusic:** please??_

_**[10:13 am] trashmouthmusic:** i am this close to doing something really stupid just to make sure you’re okay so you might want to answer me_

_**[10:13 am] trashmouthmusic:** if you don’t respond in the next five minutes i’m doing the stupid thing_

_**[10:15 am] trashmouthmusic:** you will have no one to blame but yourself for me doing this stupid thing i seriously recommend you answering me_

_**[10:22 am] trashmouthmusic:** don’t hate me for this_

            After that is a spam of texts from his friends, consisting of relatively the same thing.

                        **_mikeyyy:_** _are you okay??? trashmouth just dm’d me and he seems really worried_

_**billyyy:** ??? where’d you go??? and why is trashmouth asking me if you’re alright???_

_**bennyyy:** trashmouth just messaged me about you disappearing?? what’s going on??_

            By this point, Eddie is practically hyperventilating, his chest heaving with each breath as he does his best to think of how to fix this. He only made it worse by turning his phone off and running home, he knows, but he can’t take that back now. It’s nearly impossible to think of solutions, though, with his head swimming in an endless stream of anxious thoughts and his vision going blurry with unshed tears. His throat stings and his lungs burn, but he can’t steady his breathing no matter how hard he tries. In his hand, his phone starts to buzz, and he quickly answers it, knowing that it’s one of his friends calling to check if he’s okay and that they’ll be able to calm him down.

            He presses the device to his ear, a quiet whistling in the back of his throat due to his wheezing, and there’s a moment where nothing happens, but then the person on the other end of the line says, “Eddie?”

            In that second, he stops breathing altogether, because that is definitely not Ben, and that is definitely not Mike, and that is definitely not Bill. No, he knows exactly who it is. “…Richie?”

            “Oh, thank god,” Richie murmurs, relief evident in his voice, which sounds exactly as it does in his covers and in his live streams, but somehow completely different now that it’s being spoken directly at him. Not to his comment, not to the camera, but to just Eddie. This causes him to inhale sharply, and though his breathing is now a lot steadier, it still aches in his chest when he lets the air out. “Are you okay?”

            Slowly, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, Eddie says, “I… I’m fine. I’m… How did you get my phone number? Why, uh… Why are you calling me?”

            Sounding sheepish, Richie answers, “You kind of vanished, and I… I mean, I don’t know… I got worried? So, I begged your friends to tell me if you were okay, but then they said you weren’t answering them, either, so I asked for your phone number, and I had to beg them for it, but, uh- Mike, I think? He gave it to me, and I’ve called, like… thirty times, or something.”

            “Oh,” Eddie breathes, unable to bring his voice above a whisper. It feels surreal, knowing that he’s talking to Richie – not messaging, not tweeting, but actually _talking_.

            “I’m sorry if that’s weird,” Richie adds, his voice lilted with uncertainty. “I know we’ve been DM’ing for, like, a month now, and we never talked about if this kind of stuff was okay, but I just… I got really worried. I’m sorry.”

            Running his tongue over his lower lip nervously, Eddie tells him, “Don’t be sorry. That’s really sweet, actually. But, um… Why? Like… I dunno. I didn’t think you’d want to message me, let alone call me, after I said… _that_.”

            He can’t bring himself to specify, but Richie makes a small noise in response, clearly understanding what he’s referring to. “I wouldn’t do that,” he assures Eddie softly, sounding just as nervous as Eddie feels. “I… Ugh, okay, um- I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to say it until you answered me, so I’ll just… I’ll say it now, I guess? If that’s okay?”

            “Okay,” Eddie replies, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders for comfort, bracing himself for the worst.

            “Okay,” Richie repeats, taking a breath so deep that Eddie can hear the way it shakes. “Um, I wanted to say that, uh- same? Like- shit, I’m not good at talking, I’m sorry, but- like- _fuck_. Me, too, basically. Maybe not love, at least not yet, but- if you meant it, if you have more than just friendly feelings for me, then… same. I do, too.”

            For a moment, the world freeze over. Eddie can hear his heartbeat roaring in his ears, loud and steady, as he softly asks, “Really? You mean that?”

            There’s a pause where Eddie thinks Richie nods, but he can’t actually see him so he doesn’t know. “I do, yeah. I mean it. Do you?”

            “Yeah,” Eddie says, pushing the blankets off of him with a deep breath. “Yeah, I mean it.”

            Richie’s grin is audible in his voice as he says, “Okay, great! Does that- uh… what does that mean, then? Like… do you want to, uh…”

            “Can we FaceTime?” Eddie asks suddenly, holding his breath in anticipation as soon as the words are out there. The silence that follows feel heavy and tense.

            Then, so quiet that Eddie almost doesn’t hear it, Richie replies, “Yeah, but… Just… I meant it, y’know? When I said I’m, like, not the most attractive person. I don’t… I don’t like how I look, but, I mean… I trust you, so, yeah. Yeah, we can FaceTime.”

            Eddie can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest as he sits up fully, shuffling back to lean against his pillows and taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he murmurs, pulling his phone away from his ear and putting it on speaker before hovering his thumb over the button for FaceTime. “Okay. Are you ready?”

            “Whenever you are,” is all Richie says.

            Steeling his nerves, Eddie presses the button.

            At first, nothing happens, but then Richie must also press the button on his phone because the screen flickers and changes, displaying what his camera is picking up in the bottom corner, the rest a dark black. He thinks something must be wrong and is about to mention it when he realizes that the blackness is from Richie camera, a shadow barely visible as it shuffles in the dark. “Sorry,” Richie sighs. “I got nervous and turned my light off. I won’t keep it off, but- just- don’t expect much, okay?” Eddie doesn’t respond, his eyes tracing the silhouette repeatedly, heart pounding in anticipation. There’s a little bit more shuffling, followed by a sharp click as Richie turns his lamp back on.

            Eddie forgets how to breathe.

            The boy on his screen is beautiful by every definition of the word. He has a tangle of curls atop his head, a few loose ringlets falling in front of his soft brown eyes, which are magnified by the large glasses perched on his nose. His lips, which Eddie has seen before from his covers, are turned up into a nervous smile, much different than the way they look when he’s singing, and he very softly says, “Hey.”

            “You’re perfect,” Eddie blurts, eyes wide as he scans Richie’s face again and again. Sure, Richie might not fit the stereotypical expectation of what’s considered attractive for a male, his features not as angled and his glasses slowly slipping down the slope of his nose, but none of that matters. Everything about him is stunning. “Like, flawless.”

            Richie looks down sheepishly, his cheeks turning red as he shakes his head. “You don’t mean that.”

            “I do mean it,” Eddie insists, brows pinching together as he’s filled with a sudden determination to prove that what he’s saying is true. “You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful. Pretty. Breathtaking. Should I go on?” By this point, Richie is flustered, his entire face burning with a deep blush, though there’s uncertainty clear in his eyes as he glances to his phone and down again. Eddie considers the silence as an invitation to keep talking. “You said that I don’t have to believe that I’m gorgeous, I just have to believe that you think I am. So, if you won’t believe that you’re attractive, at least believe me when I say that I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as beautiful as you.”

            Gnawing on his lower lip, Richie ponders this for a moment before slowly nodding. “Okay. I can do that.” He offers Eddie a wide grin before clearing his throat and looking down again. “Um, I was gonna ask, uh- if… if I, y’know- if I like you, and you feel the same, um- does that… like- does that mean we’re, like…” He trails off, looking frustrated with himself before quickly asking, “Does that make us boyfriends?”

            Eddie, for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, has to remind himself to breathe. “Is that what you want?”

            “Only if you want it, too.”

            “Then yes,” Eddie nods. “That makes us boyfriends.”

            The way Richie smiles at this makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second half will be posted asap, but i really need to finish the next chapter of criminal lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted this to be longer than the first half, but it felt right to end it where i did. i hope you like it!!
> 
> also, thank you so much to everyone who's left comments and sent me messages/asks on tumblr about this fic. i cannot express how happy that made me, and i'm just so glad that people enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

            On Eddie’s eighteenth birthday, something incredible happens.

            Him and Richie have been dating for a little over two months at this point, only sharing their relationship with their friends per Richie’s request. It’s not that he wants to keep it private, as he tells Eddie a few days after getting together, he’s just so accustomed to keeping personal information offline – as in, keeping his name and face a secret – that it’ll take a bit for him to get comfortable with sharing something like this. Eddie would love to post about being Richie’s boyfriend, but he’s more than content with letting their followers think they’re just friends. If anything, it brings him an odd sense of joy when people mention the fact that they act like a couple and he thinks, _That’s because we are._

            Eddie’s friends are overjoyed by the news that him and Richie are together, though they had been a little wary of it at first. Not because it’s an online relationship, but because they’d never properly spoken to Richie, or even knew his actual name yet. The fact that they weren’t certain at first had pained Eddie, to the point where Richie had called him while he was with his friends and asked to talk to them on FaceTime. After asking multiple times if he was sure, Eddie complied, setting up the FaceTime call and handing the phone over to his excited friends.

            “Howdy, boys,” Richie had grinned in greeting, waving with his hand that was not holding his own phone. “The name’s Richie Tozier, and I’d like to formally ask for permission to date your good ol’ pal Edward. I promise to send him shitty memes at two in the morning and supply all of you with embarrassing screenshots from FaceTime calls and text messages. What do you say?”

            Needless to say, Eddie’s friends loved Richie after that, much to Eddie’s relief (and slight mortification, as Richie followed through with his promise to send embarrassing screenshots to the others; showing up to Bill’s house and being teased about the selfie Eddie sent Richie of him crying on the floor because he wanted chicken nuggets and couldn’t have any was not, exactly, a fun experience).

            In turn, Eddie also got to meet Richie’s friends over FaceTime one day. It hadn’t been planned or intentional, really – they’d been chatting about their upcoming Senior year when Beverly burst through Richie’s bedroom door and started yelling about how much she hated her dad. It had taken a few minutes of Richie trying to talk to her while she ranted over him, but eventually she managed to calm down enough to acknowledge the fact that Eddie was on call and had heard every word. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to care as she lunged forward and grabbed Richie’s phone with a grin.

            “Your selfies don’t do you justice,” she gushed to him, examining his features. He flushed under her stare, debating whether or not he should end the call, which caused her to squeak, “Oh my god, Richie, he’s _blushing!_ What a fucking cutie!”

            Richie, from somewhere off camera, whined, “Give me back my boyfriend, you asshole!”

            This was when Stan had entered, holding an arrangement of drinks that he’d grabbed from the fridge downstairs, and saw the situation. Much like Beverly, he didn’t seem at all bothered by Eddie’s presence, only regarding the boy on the screen with a smile and huffing out, “If you’re gonna date my best friend, you need to at least follow me back on Twitter and give me a shout out. I’m trying to reach four thousand followers by my birthday.”

            “Uris, shut the _fuck_ up.”

            Eddie did follow Beverly and Stan back, though, and even Tweeted out to tell people to follow Stan before July 13. Stan passed four thousand followers overnight, and by the time his birthday arrived, he had hit 5k. When Richie called him on FaceTime the following morning and Eddie answered, he was surprised to see that it was Stan on the other end. “I approve of your relationship with Richie,” he had said simply, grinning.

            “Oh,” was all that Eddie could manage to get out at first. “Uh- thanks?”

            Stan’s smile widened and he ended the call.

            So, yeah, Eddie loved Richie’s friends right off the bat. And, if their endless stream of messages were anything to go by, they were quite fond of him as well. Approximately a week into this spam of DM’s, however, Eddie decided to give them his number. It’s because of him, really, that the group chat from hell even exists, which is why everything that happens on his eighteenth birthday happens.

            **_the group chat from hell_**

_**[2:12 am] bensy:** how does wind happen_

_**[2:12 am] bensy:** like. it just. Exists? i don’t think so. it has to start somewhere. where does wind come from. where’s it going._

_**[2:14 am] richo:** cotton eye joe_

_**[2:15 am] eded:** i want to kill you both for waking me up with these messages but seeing as i can’t actually go to your house and murder you, richie, i’m going to kill ben twice and it’s all your fault. hope you’re happy. go to bed._

_**[2:15 am] bensy:** i do not feel safe_

_**[2:15 am] bevsy:** don’t kill ben he’s right_

_**[2:16 am] bevsy:** unless someone actually knows how wind works without looking it up then you can’t kill ben_

_**[2:16 am] richo:** well i sure as fuck don’t know_

_**[2:17 am] eded:** if i can’t kill ben then stan i will transfer fifty dollars to your paypal if you kill richie_

_**[2:17 am] richo:** eddie no_

_**[2:17 am] ston:** suddenly i am awake_

_**[2:18 am] ston:** man, it feels like a nice night to go to richie’s house and commit murder_

_**[2:18 am] richo:** STANLEY NO_

_**[2:18 am] ston:** sorry i can’t hear you over the sound of my footsteps as i walk to your house_

_**[2:18 am] richo:** bev save me_

_**[2:19 am] bevsy:** can’t believe richie’s about to die and i won’t get to see it_

_**[2:19 am] richo:** BEVERLY MARSH I SWEAR TO GOD_

_**[2:20 am] ston:** hey richie i see your house_

_**[2:20 am] bensy:** i’m sad to say i started this all with a question about the wind_

_**[2:20 am] eded:** please. stop. i am but a small boy trying to SLEEP_

_**[2:21 am] richo:** OH MY GOD STAN IS ACTUALLY OUTSIDE MY WINDOW??????_

_**[2:22 am] mickey:** i’m only acknowledging this chat right now to say that you’re full of shit eddie, you literally turn eighteen in less than a month, stop saying you’re a small boy. that is all, goodnight_

_**[2:23 am] richo:** STAN JUST CLIMBED THROUGH MY WINDOW AND THREW A ROCK AT ME AND TOOK MY BED AND NOW HE’S ASLEEP???_

_**[2:23 am] richo:** wait eddie’s birthday is in less than a month?_

_**[2:23 am] richo:** when is it???_

_**[2:24 am] bull:** september 3. now shut the FUCK up and go to BED._

            Without that particular conversation, Richie most likely wouldn’t have known about Eddie’s birthday until the actual day, when Mike, Ben, and Bill inevitably spammed Twitter about it. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t like his birthday, but he’s never really looked forward to it. His mother, while overbearing and dramatic, has always celebrated with a present, a shitty dinner, and maybe, if he’s lucky, a store-bought cake that might, if he’s even luckier, actually say happy birthday on it. He’ll never forget the year that she presented him with a cake that read _CONGRATS, GRAD!_ in big, blocky letters. She’d only shrugged it off and said, “Cake isn’t good for you, so you should be grateful you’re getting any at all.”

            Eddie has never considered his birthday to be a big deal. His friends, for the past seven years, have been trying to make him think otherwise, insisting that it’s a day for him to celebrate himself and have fun, be happy. He told them once that his birthday feels more like a chore than anything else. Ben had started crying because _you deserve so much better than that._

            It’s just how life is, though, right?

            As it turns out, no. No, it’s not, because on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Mike’s face is hovering mere inches above his own. Upon realizing that Eddie’s awake, he grins and chirps out, “Good morning, birthday boy!”

            Eddie promptly screams, sitting up so fast that Mike has no time to move away, resulting in their foreheads slamming together with enough force to send Mike stumbling back. His scream tapers off into a pained groan as he rubs at the sore spot on his head, eyes squeezed shut as he slumps back against his pillows, huffing out a low, “What the _fuck,_ Hanlon?!”

            “That’s some quality content,” he hears Bill laugh off to his side.

            Rolling over to bury his face into his arms, Eddie states, “You’re dead to me. All of you.”

            “Uh oh,” Ben chimes in, clearly amused, struggling to stifle his own laughter. “Eddie’s showing his true colors today, guys. Now that he’s a big kid, he gets to be mean. What will all your followers say?”

            Lifting his head, Eddie squints through the light to see that Bill is holding up his phone, recording the whole interaction. “If you ever want to have kids,” he threatens half-heartedly, “I suggest you delete this video. Like, now.”

            Lips twitching into a sideways smile, Bill feigns an innocent voice and asks, “Video? Oh, dear Edward. I’m afraid this is a live stream. Can’t delete those, now can I?”

            “Are you–” Eddie gapes, glancing between his friends and the phone before looking down at himself insecurely, pulling his blanket up to his chin to hide his body further. “Bill, I’m literally only in my underwear right now, can you turn that off?”

            Smile widening, Bill glances down at his screen and announces, “Trashmouth is watching the stream! He says hello.”

            Letting out a horrified noise, Eddie buries himself further into his blankets and whines, “Oh, my god, turn it off!”

            “Not yet!” Mike insists, one hand still pressed against his forehead. He grins at Eddie and promises, “You don’t have to get up, but we have a little surprise for you and we promised Beverly we’d stream it so she can see your reaction live. Her and Stan are probably watching right now.”

            Sighing, Eddie forces himself to relax and sits up again, wincing when his blanket slides down to his hips and reveals his bare chest. He’s posted selfies of him and his friends when they’ve gone swimming at the Quarry, and this is the same level of exposed skin, right? It just feels more vulnerable because he’s in bed, is all. Looking at the camera, he smiles and murmurs a soft, “Hey.” Then, addressing the people in the room, he asks, “What’s the surprise?”

            “There’s a lot of surprises planned for today,” Ben tells him, “but the first one is this.” Silently, he hands over a somewhat small wrapped gift that he’d been holding behind his back.

            Eddie takes it gingerly, curiosity forming in the back of his mind as he turns it over in his hands,  studying over it carefully. After a few moments of this, he begins to tear off the wrapping paper at a steady pace, brows furrowing in concentration as he does so. Confusion takes over him as the wrapping paper reveals a small, simple box, a little bit smaller than the average sized book. Slowly, he lifts the top of the box off and examines the contents inside.

            “… is this…?”

            Sitting inside the box is a small card, four slips of paper, and a stunning necklace with a beautiful camera charm on the end of it. What’s got his attention currently, though, are the slips of paper, as he thinks that maybe, potentially-

            “Are these Hayley Kiyoko concert tickets?!”

            “They are.” Mike gestures to the card, his smile knowing. “Read it.”

            Eddie’s jaw is practically on the floor as he picks up the card, fingers shaking slightly. He’s been trying to pull enough money together to get tickets ever since Hayley Kiyoko announced her upcoming tour, and he was sure he’d never have enough in time before it sold out. Inhaling slowly, kind of embarrassed by how emotional he already feels, he opens the card – a simple little card, with cute balloons decorating the front spelling out the words _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ – and reads what’s scrawled inside.

 

            _Eddie!_

_Our city asses couldn’t make it to Maine in time to party, sadly, but we had enough time to send something in the mail, so here we are! The necklace is from me – I gave Richie a matching one with a microphone on it, so that it can be a cute boyfriends thing as well as a birthday present. I just wanted to say happy birthday, and I’m so glad that I get to call you my friend. I can’t wait to hug you one day._

_Love, Bev_

_Happy Birthday, Eddie!_

_I know you were jealous when I told you I’m going to see Hayley on tour, so now you get to go, too. The other three tickets are so that you can drag Ben, Mike and Bill along and show them what real talent looks like. We’ll go to one of her concerts together some day, though, alright? Promise._

_Love you, nerd._

_-Stan_

 

            By the time he’s done reading it, there are tears rolling down his cheeks and a wide, wobbly grin is stretched out on his lips. He reads it again, and then once more, just to let the words sink in, but then he’s crying too much to see them and he has to set it down to wipe at his eyes, letting out a choked off laugh. “I’ve been awake for ten minutes and I’m already crying. Gee, thanks, fuckers.”

            “Do you like them?” Ben asks, pointing to the box with a soft smile. His eyes are glimmering slightly, as are Bill’s and Mike’s, as they watch Eddie tentatively take the tickets and the necklace into his hands. Gazing down at the items in awe, he silently nods and looks up at Mike, who instantly moves over to put the necklace on Eddie for him.

            “I love them,” Eddie murmurs once the clasp has been done, raising a hand to lightly touch the charm that brushes his chest with every inhale. Feeling his breath hitch, he adds, “Stan and Bev, too. I love them so much. Christ, I’m a mess.”

            Bill swivels his phone around to address the stream, grin wide and genuine as he says, “I hope you two are watching. Oh, Trashmouth said to stop crying because he can’t comfort you and it makes him sad.”

            Rolling his eyes, Eddie murmurs, “He can call me if he wants.”

            “No, he can’t,” Mike sing-songs, pulling Eddie’s phone out of his back pocket with a smug look. “We have lots of things planned for today, and one of the conditions we have is no phone. He can call one of us if he wants to talk to you so bad, but we told him what time we’re giving you your phone back, so he knows what to expect.”

            With a dramatic pout, Eddie asks, “Do I get any say in this? I’m an adult now, you know.”

            Ben snorts. “Yeah, no, we’re keeping your phone.”

            “Assholes,” Eddie murmurs, but doesn’t fight any further. “Can you turn the stream off now so that I can get dressed?”

            “I don’t think so,” Bill snickers, focusing the camera back on Eddie and wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Do a strip tease, birthday boy.”

            Eddie throws the empty box in his lap at Bill and yells, “Turn it off, Denbrough!” Mike and Ben cackle loudly as Bill yelps and jumps out of the way. A few moments later, after saying a quick goodbye to the chat – which is full of people wishing Eddie a happy birthday – Bill finally stops the live stream and instructs Eddie to put on something cozy.

            Then, without any explanation as to what’s to come, they leave.

 

 

 

 

            As they pull up to the Quarry in Ben’s car, Bill pulls out his phone to start recording again. Upon Eddie’s unimpressed look, he promises, “It’s not a stream! Stan and Bev just wanted that one to be live because it was their gifts and they wanted to see your reaction as it was happening. The rest are just videos that I’m gonna send to the group chat.”

            “If I didn’t love you guys, you’d all be dead,” Eddie grumbles.

            Mike sighs wistfully. “Have I mentioned how nice you are, Eddie? I hope I haven’t, because you aren’t. You’re a feisty little gay man.”

            “And I’m damn proud of it,” Eddie fires back, but a laugh bubbles through his words halfway through. “Also, feisty little gay man is probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

            Ben parks the car and takes the keys out of the ignition with a grin. “It’s the most accurate, too.”

            The surprise awaiting him at the Quarry is a picnic of breakfast food. His friends set up a table and everything, making sure that there’s no risk of the food getting dirty. He doesn’t understand the need to record this until Mike presents an old boom box and tells Eddie to press play. When he does, All-Star begins to blast at an excruciating volume, and as much as he hates it, he knows that it had to have been Richie’s idea, so he kind of loves it, too.

            His birthday seems to last forever, with one activity after the other. His friends take him to get ice cream (where Ben gives him a collection of books that he’s been wanting to read) and to the movies (where Mike gives him an empty photo album with the promise that it’ll make sense later) and to the barrens (where Bill gives him an expensive Canon camera to, as he puts it, “Fill up that album with pictures of us.”) and every other corner of town. By the time the sun is setting, Eddie is absolutely exhausted and craving sleep, but he doesn’t want the day to end, doesn’t want to go home to his bland mother and her invasive questions and tiring accusations, doesn’t want to risk the best birthday he’s ever had to end on a bad note.

            When he mentions this to his friends, they just smile. “It won’t,” Ben promises.

            “Last surprise is at my house,” Bill says. “You’ll love it so much that not even your shitty mom will be able to ruin your mood.”

            It’s a big promise to make. Needless to say, it fills Eddie with anticipation for what’s to come. That anticipation only grows stronger when they enter Bill’s house and Bill starts streaming again with no explanation as to why. Mike leads him upstairs wordlessly, Ben trailing behind them and Bill in the far back getting everything on camera. Despite Eddie’s constant bombardment of questions, they don’t budge, only taking him to Bill’s room and instructing him to sit on the bed.

            “Seriously,” Eddie whines, starting to feel a bit anxious with the odd behavior. “What’s going on? What’s the surprise?”

            After sharing a quick grin with Mike and Bill, Ben hands him his phone. “Don’t check your notifications yet,” he says sternly, eyebrows furrowed to show that what he’s saying is very important. “Not Twitter, not Instagram, nothing. Just go to Trashmouth’s account. Got it?”

            Eddie nods frantically, desperate to figure out what all of this is about. He grabs his phone and unlocks it quickly, being sure to avoid the notifications piling up on his home screen as he pulls open Twitter. Despite the urge to go through his messages and such, he goes straight to Richie’s account, his knee bouncing anxiously as he does so. When it finally loads, he sees a tweet from ten minutes ago waiting at the top of the screen.

                        **_@trashmouthmusic: i know it’s not friday but here’s a song for a certain birthday boy!!_**

            Already, Eddie can feel his heart hammering in his chest, throat closing slightly as he shakily presses on the video attached, glancing up briefly to see his friends watching him with joyful smiles. He chooses not to think about the fact that Bill is still live streaming, instead focusing his attention to the screen as it loads and the usual sight of Richie’s covers greets him. It’s clear from the get-go that Richie is more nervous in this cover than usual, evident in the way he fidgets for a few seconds before beginning to strum on the ukulele perched in his lap. His lips part slowly, and his voice is soft, lovely, beautiful.

                        _Forever young_

_I want to be forever young_

_Do you really want to live forever?_

_Forever, and ever?_

            Richie sings the chorus three times, so gently that the video feels far more intimate than any other cover he’s ever done. Gnawing on his lower lip, Eddie continues to watch, tightening his grip on his phone as Richie trails off and it goes silent. Then, suddenly, Richie leans forward and moves the camera to reveal his whole face, exposing rosy red cheeks glimmering with happy tears and wide eyes behind large glasses that pair well with his nervous grin. “Eddie,” Richie says, sounding terrified yet certain of what he’s doing. “The first time we talked was almost two years ago, when we were sixteen and had a few hundred followers and no clue who each other were. You just said you liked my cover and I said thank you, but that… that lead to something great, didn’t it?” As he says this, he gets a wistful look in his eyes, something bright and beautiful that makes Eddie’s stomach clench. “You said, uh- you said you’d like to share our relationship, and I told you that I wasn’t ready yet, and you said- you said okay, because you’re the most incredible person to exist, and… and this is it, okay? No more hiding it. No more hiding us. No more hiding me.” Richie looks directly into the camera and grins a stupidly wonderful grin. “So, for all of my followers, let me introduce myself. My name’s Richie, and I have the best fucking boyfriend the world has to offer, who just so happens to be turning eighteen today! Go wish him a happy birthday! And for Eds, when you see this…” He trails off, swallowing thickly. “You mean the world to me, okay? Happy birthday, baby.”

            When the video ends, Eddie is full on sobbing, a hand placed over his mouth to stifle the noise as he fumbles with his phone. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room, doesn’t stop to consider the stream or his friends as he pulls up Richie’s contact and hits the call button, pressing his phone to his ear. It only rings twice before Richie picks up, sounding nervous as he says, “I was watching the stream and you’re crying. Why are you crying?”

            “Good tears,” Eddie promises, a laugh bubbling through his crying. “They’re good tears, Rich. I can’t believe you did that.” He shakes his head, grinning. “You’re incredible, you know that? Fucking incredible.”

            Richie exhales audibly in relief. “You liked it then?”

            Another laugh comes from Eddie, this one incredulous. “Liked it? Richie, I’m bawling my eyes out in front of not only my friends but also however many people are watching the stream, and I literally don’t give a shit because I’m so happy right now. I loved it, Richie.”

            “Thank god,” Richie chuckles. “I got you, like, an actual gift, too, by the way. I sent it to Bill’s house but it won’t be there until tomorrow, so you’ll get it late.”

            “Seriously? The- the video was more than enough, you didn’t have to–”

            “I wanted to,” Richie interrupts. “I wanted to do even more, but I’m not the wealthiest person so I did what I could with what I have.”

            Eddie can’t wipe the smile off his face. “You’re unbelievable. Have I told you that?”

            “You’ve mentioned it,” Richie replies cheekily. “You’re pretty cool yourself.” Then, in a tone so loving that it makes Eddie’s heart melt, he says, “Happy birthday, babe. I hope it’s been a good one.”

            In complete honestly, Eddie tells him, “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

 

 

 

 

                        **_[4:36 pm] eddie my love:_** _Richard_

_**[4:37 pm] richie baby:** yes Edward_

_**[4:37 pm] eddie my love:** ew i take back the full names that looks gross_

_**[4:37 pm] eddie my love:** anyway_

_**[4:37 pm] eddie my love:** i have some bad news_

_**[4:37 pm] richie baby:** if you break up with me right now i will actually sue you_

_**[4:38 pm] eddie my love:** i have no plans to break up with you ever so you’re good _

_**[4:38 pm] richie baby:** :D_

_**[4:38 pm] richie baby:** what’s the bad news_

_**[4:38 pm] eddie my love:** so_

_**[4:39 pm] eddie my love:** my mom is dragging me to stay at my aunt’s house on wednesday night and she will eat me alive if i’m on my phone so i won’t be able to text you or call you until after we leave her house_

_**[4:39 pm] eddie my love:** but!!! we will hopefully be leaving at like ten or eleven in the morning, so i won’t miss a lot of the day!!_

_**[4:40 pm] richie baby:** oh, coolio_

_**[4:40 pm] eddie my love:** i’m sorry ): i was gonna like call you at midnight and wish you a happy birthday and do all of these things, and i still will, it’ll just have to wait until like noon or so instead_

_**[4:40 pm] richie baby:** don’t be sorry!_

_**[4:41 pm] richie baby:** it’s all good babe, i understand (: as long as i get to talk to you at all, i’ll be happy_

_**[4:41 pm] eddie my love:** you will_

_**[4:42 pm] eddie my love:** i promise, once i can get back on my phone, you won’t be able to get rid of me_

 

 

 

 

            On Richie’s eighteenth birthday, Eddie does something crazy.

            It took a month of contemplation before the idea hit him, and several months to figure out how he was going to do it, but somehow, with a lot of effort and help from his friends, he manages to make it happen. There’s no doubt that it would have been a million times harder if he had to deal with his mom, but thankfully, after he moved into Mike’s house and she realized she had no say in the matter, life became a lot easier.

            Sometimes Eddie forgets that she’s his mother. He doesn’t really talk to her anymore. He doesn’t plan to, either.

            By the time March comes rolling around, Eddie and Richie have been dating for almost eight months and their group of friends, who now call themselves the Losers club due to a wave of petty online hate people tried to send them in December, have been together for around seven. If Eddie thought they were close back in September, then by now they’re undeniably intertwined by their souls, meant to be with one another for the rest of their lives.

            Perhaps that’s why, when he mentioned his idea for Richie’s birthday to his friends, they did not hesitate to agree. Stan and Beverly were instantly alerted about their plan and immediately were on board, willing to do whatever they could to help. The only rule they made was to keep it hidden from Richie, as this idea had to be a surprise.

            Lying to Richie is, perhaps, the hardest thing Eddie has ever done. He didn’t even tell Richie about the fact that he moved into Mike’s house, just so that he would have a believable cover story as to why he wouldn’t be able to respond to Richie until sometime past 11, which is when Ben’s car reaches New York after the seven hour drive from Derry.

            Technically, Eddie could have been messaging Richie the entire car ride, but he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally spoil the surprise whilst filled with excitement for what’s to come. As much as it pains him to see the date on his phone change from March 6 to March 7 and not instantly tell his boyfriend happy birthday, he knows that it’ll be worth it in the end. He just wishes that the end would come quicker, as every passing moment leading up to it feels like hours, each one longer than the last. The good news, though, is that everything is going according to plan.

            Upon arriving to New York, Eddie feels ready to cry. Just the knowledge that he’s in the same city as Stan, Beverly, and Richie is enough to make his chest ache, tears welling in his eyes as they pull up to the hotel they’ve booked rooms in and park. He wants to spring out of the car before it’s come to a stop, knowing that Stan is inside waiting for them, that soon Beverly will be here and the surprise for Richie will be revealed. He doesn’t jump out, though, because he knows that with his lack of coordination he’d only manage to fall face first into the pavement. Meeting his boyfriend of eight months face-to-face for the first time with bruises and scratches is not, exactly, what he wants out of today.

            “This is it,” Ben says as he puts the car in park, gazing up at the hotel with wide eyes.

            Leaning forward to do the same, Bill murmurs, “Stan’s in there right now, waiting for us.”

            Mike throws open his car door with a grin. “Let’s go!”

            Eddie follows after him, jittery with excitement and nerves. As he climbs the front steps of the hotel, his friends right on his heels, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

                        **_richie’s birthday surprise!!_**

_**[10:47 am] grandpa stan:** oh my god i just saw you guys get out of the car oh my god oh my gOD_

_**[10:47 am] grandpa stan:** WE HAVE ROOMS 304-306 PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET UP HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU ALL_

_**[10:48 am] aunt bev:** WAIT ARE THEY THERE_

_**[10:48 am] grandpa stan:** YES AND IM ACTUALLY CRYING_

_**[10:49 am] uncle ben:** we’re in the elevator but eddie took the stairs and he’s currently running up to the third floor so if you want our meeting on video you should set up the camera now_

_**[10:49 am] grandpa stan** : i set it up as soon as i saw you guys in the parking lot_

_**[10:50 am] grandma mike:** we just heard screaming as the elevator doors opened so i think eddie beat us to the room_

_**[10:50 am] bro bill:** he definitely beat us to the room i can hear him and stan crying_

_**[10:51 am] lover eddie:** i'm a MESS how will i survive when bev and richie get here_

            To say that Eddie is weeping when he collides with Stan in the doorway of room 305 would be an understatement. The noise that rips its way out of his throat is a horrendous mix of a scream and a sob, something uncontainable and out of his control. It makes him feel better, though, when he feels his shirt dampen with Stan’s tears, and he remembers that this is an emotional experience for everyone involved, not just him. After a few moments of this embrace, he finally pulls back and smiles at Stan, examining his face intently and breathing, “Jesus, you’re _real_. This is real.”

            “You’re even shorter than I thought,” Stan says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

            Scoffing, Eddie shoves his shoulder and tells him, “I changed my mind, this whole thing is cancelled, I’m going back to Maine, and you’re dead to me.”

            “I love you too, dumbass,” Stan coos.

            Bill, Mike, and Ben have very similar moments, crying as they embrace Stan tightly. The five of them head back outside to bring their luggage up to their rooms – 304 is Eddie and Richie’s room, 305 is Mike, Ben and Bill’s room, and 306 is Stan and Beverly’s room, even though they’re well aware they’ll probably all crash in the same room at least the first night. Stan, who has recently decided to start posting odd vlogs here and there on YouTube, records random moments and has each of them talk to the camera about how they feel.

            Then, what feels like years later but also way too soon, Beverly calls Stan. “We’re a block away,” she tells him.

            “I hate both of you for being so secretive right now,” Richie’s voice whines in the background. “And Eddie won’t answer my texts! This is bullshit!”

            Stan laughs and points out, “Remember how secretive the others were on Eddie’s birthday? This is no different. Trust me, Rich, the secrecy will be worth it.”

            Childishly, Richie grumbles, “Yeah, but I knew what the surprises were for Eddie’s birthday. Right now I’m just fucking clueless.”

            “That’s the point of surprises,” Beverly retorts. “You’re supposed to be clueless.”

            As soon as the call ends, they get into position. The goal is for Richie to think that him, Stan and Beverly are skipping the rest of the school week and staying at a nice hotel for the weekend to get away from Richie’s less-than-ideal parents. Richie will think that’s the surprise, which is true – he just won’t know that Eddie, Bill, Mike and Ben will be joining them at first.

            Eddie is the last of the four of them to shuffle into room 306, the one next door to where Stan is waiting for Beverly and Richie’s arrival. He waits by the door and listens intently, ear pressed against the door connecting the two rooms as he holds his breath, heart pounding in his chest. The camera that he got for his birthday is set up in the corner, filming their every move, while Stan’s camera is in the other room, getting both sides of this moment. Behind him, Eddie hears Bill let out a shaky breath and Mike murmur excitedly to Ben, but it’s all muffled as, through the door, he hears Beverly’s voice exclaim, “Ta-Da!”

            “What?” Richie asks. “Am I missing something here?”

            There’s a moment where the world comes to a stop. Eddie feels goosebumps rise along his bare arms, a shiver running down his spine, because that voice – Richie’s voice – is not coming through a speaker right now. It’s not a phone call or a video. It’s real. Richie is in the other room, and Eddie is standing here, shaking like a leaf and openly weeping at the realization.

            “No, dipshit,” Stan retorts, sarcasm dripping from his words. Eddie can practically hear him roll his eyes and chuckles. “This is it! We’re getting you away from your shit parents and spending the next four days here, doing whatever we want and spending all of our money like dumbasses. Happy birthday!”

            Despite the joking tone Stan used, Richie’s reply is soft and filled with disbelief and awe. “Really?”

            “Really,” Beverly tells him sweetly. “Surprise!”

            “You’re the best,” Richie says, and Eddie can picture his wobbly grin and shimmering eyes. “Seriously. The only thing that would make this better is if the other losers would answer my texts.”

            Smugly, Stan responds, “Huh. Maybe we can help with that.”

            That’s the cue. Trembling slightly, Eddie steps back and looks over his shoulder to meet gazes with his friends, who all step forward and nod. Steeling his nerves, he reaches forward and opens the door before he can second guess himself.

            The first thing Eddie realizes is that Richie is even more stunning in real life. His eyes, which Eddie have always thought to be captivatingly beautiful, are even more so without the pixilation of his phone screen. The curls that Eddie adores look softer now than they ever have, freshly cut ringlets reaching just below Richie’s ears. The curve of Richie’s lips, one of the first things Eddie ever noticed when watching his covers, is gentle and inviting. His nose and glasses are even more perfect, somehow.

            The second thing Eddie realizes is that he has no idea what to say, so he opts to say nothing at all, instead just meeting Richie’s gaze and swallowing thickly as Richie stares at him is shock.

            Slowly, movements almost sluggish, Richie blinks and glances at the other three people behind Eddie, eyes getting wider with each passing second, before returning to look at Eddie. He looks briefly to Beverly, who looks on the brink of tears, and Stan, who merely nods once to confirm that this is real. Then, without a word, he stumbles forward and wraps Eddie in his arms.

            A joyful cry rips its way out of Eddie’s throat as he melts into the embrace, tucking his face into Richie’s neck and balling up Richie’s shirt in tight fists. He has so many things he wants to say, but he’s too overwhelmed to choke them out, so he settles for tightening his hold on Richie, trying to pull him closer despite the fact that it’s physically impossible. Richie buries his face into Eddie’s hair and practically sobs, his hands shaking, his breath stuttering in his chest. Dimly, Eddie can hear Beverly as she hugs the other’s, but he can’t be bothered the care about anything other than this. He has plenty of time to hug Beverly, and right now, nothing matters but Richie.

            “Oh my god,” Richie murmurs, voice thick with tears as he pulls back just enough to looks down at Eddie. There’s a look in his eyes that makes Eddie weak in the knees. “Oh my _god.”_

            Bringing his hands up to carefully cup Richie’s face, Eddie sniffles and says, “Happy birthday, baby.”

            Fresh tears welling in his eyes, Richie shakes his head and asks, “How? How did- how did you-?”

            “A lot of planning,” Eddie laughs wetly. “And a lot of lying. I have to tell you a few things later that I couldn’t tell you because of this. I wish I could have, but this was worth it. God, this is worth it.”

            Richie doesn’t seem bothered by this, instead just staring at Eddie with such a vulnerable expression that Eddie has to remind himself to breathe. “I can’t believe this,” his mumbles.

            Grinning, Eddie replies with a quiet, “You better believe it, ‘cause I’m right here,” before pushing himself onto his toes and pressing their lips together. It’s not a perfect kiss, sloppy and slick with both of their tears, but it’s all they’ve wanted for the past eight months. Eddie never wants it to end.

 

 

 

 

_**@bigbill:** this is the best day of my life [stanandbeverlykissingbillscheeks.jpeg]_

_**@httpbeverly:** my boys are all here!! [theloserscuddlingonthebed.jpeg]_

_**@mikeyyy:** we’re ready to party!! [thelosersposing.jpeg]_

_**@stantheman:** i love these idiots [thelosersbythepool.jpeg]_

 

                         ** _@trashmouthmusic:_** _he’s even cuter irl [eddieblushing.jpeg]_

_**@simplyeddie:**  the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen [richielaughing.jpeg]_

 

_**@bubbaben:**  i feel blessed to get to witness such a relationship as incredible and beautiful as theirs [richieandeddiesfirstkiss.jpeg]_

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to hmu on tumblr (sunsetozier) if you want!! let me know what you think!


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